Sing What I Said: 3 Vignettes
by marginaliana
Summary: Who am I to blow against the wind? Three ficlets on a theme. Part 1 set preseries, parts 2 and 3 set during Season 2 in the Clueless and Safe era. Slashy.


1.

What made House hire Cameron in the first place was the way she looked him over. She was less stupid than the other applicants, true, and the whole pretty and damaged thing, and she had the right specialty, but it was that assessing glance, brief though it had been, that proved to him she had potential. _Perhaps she can be taught,_ he thought, _to look beyond the obvious._

He supposed later she must have decided he was all right, too, at least in a limited way, given that she accepted the offer so readily. Either that, or she was having one hell of an off day.

"Have we met before?" he asked as he walked her to the door of his office.

"I don't think so," she said warily.

"Are you sure?" House gave her his most innocent face. "You look so familiar! Oh, I know," he said, leering. "You were the one jumping out of that cake at the last Board of Directors meeting. I just didn't recognize you with your clothes on."

Cameron's mouth fell open for a brief second, then she straightened her shoulders and scowled at him.

"I didn't expect someone of your intelligence," she said icily, "to be as much of a sexist bastard as the rest of the trained monkeys they give medical degrees to these days."

House shrugged his shoulders, pulling open the door and holding it for her.

"Who am I," he said, "to blow against the wind?" Then he smirked. "Want a job?"

She sputtered only for a brief moment, said, "I'll take it, asshole!" and jerked the door out of his hands letting it slam behind her as she left.

2.

House was happily munching on lunch, a tasty pasta salad with shrimp sneaked from the fridge in the oncology lounge (and labeled "radioactive waste – don't let House get his hands on this") plus a bag of bacon flavored chips from his stash, and watching Passions when Cuddy came in.

"At least wait until the commercials to badger me," he said before she could open her mouth. "Otheriwse I'll never know what happened to Timmy and Julian and my heart will be broken."

Cuddy snorted. "And that would bother me because...?"

"Hey, a broken heart is serious business," said House, still chewing. "I'm a delicate flower; I might shrivel up and die." Cuddy's face screwed up in disgust.

"Ew," she said. "Please don't do that."

"Why not? It's sea food. See--" Cuddy stepped forward put her hand over his mouth. Then she seemed to realize what she was doing and shuddered before dropping it again. Deliberately, she changed the subject.

"House, why is it that every time I see you you're wasting the hospital's money? Either in a steady stream or in large lump sums, it doesn't seem to matter to you."

House didn't think that was very funny. He pouted. "You people never measure my achievements in lives saved, only in money. It's always about the money, money, money. Why, if I didn't know better, I'd say it's almost like you're some kind of... I don't know, material girl, living in a material world?" He fluttered his eyelashes at her.

Cuddy rolled her eyes but House could see the edges of her mouth turn up just the slightest bit, as if she were trying very hard not to smile.

"Money is what lets you keep on saving all those lives," she reminded him sternly. "The hospital's money, in point of fact."

"Oh, come on, Cuddy," House whined. "You don't really care about that. It's just peer pressure." He put on his best condescending voice. "Just because all the other hospital administrators jump off a bridge, doesn't mean you have to."

"_You_ make me want to jump off a bridge," Cuddy said. Then she sighed and said, "who am I to blow against the wind?" and reached for the chips.

3.

Contrary to popular belief, House actually liked sunlight. But not bunnies or rainbows, no, that was going too far. Sunlight, though, was on the approved list, right under pizza, beer, and "pizza and beer," and right above "the way Cuddy's breasts bounce when she's irritated." It was, but for the sunlight, perhaps a predictable list; further down was "stealing Wilson's lunch" and "making Wilson pay for lunch" and "the look on Wilson's face that one time I made and brought my own lunch."

The motorcycle was on there, too, in part for simply being an extravagant midlife-crisis-esque vehicle, but mostly, if House were to be honest, for the way the wind in his face made him feel free. He rarely rode the bike at night, not as a sop to Wilson's worry-wort-ish tendencies, but because the combination of sunlight and the rush of the wind was the one sensation guaranteed to snap him out of whatever black mood had taken over. He'd never found another feeling like it.

When Wilson kissed him the first time, it was like he'd been suddenly enveloped in sunlight. They'd been talking, just bantering back and forth as usual, and then Wilson had moved into House's personal space. For a split second, House found himself wondering how Wilson had managed it, how he'd learned to slip so easily through House's defenses. Then Wilson was kissing him and all House could think about was how warm Wilson's chapped lips were against his own. He broke away.

House said, "I thought you were supposed to be the smart one here, not the crazy one. If you're not careful I'll have an existential crisis."

Wilson said, "Come on, House, this isn't a surprise. I _know_ you. You know me."

"Yeah, we met at a party somewhere. You're a doctor, right? Because you remind me a touch of this guy I used to know, only he wasn't _fucking insane_."

Wilson responded by leaning in again and this time the kiss was even hotter, like the full force of the sun on an August afternoon. House couldn't help but kiss back, even though the back of his mind was starting to gibber a bit. Finally, Wilson pulled back.

"You want to argue some more, or you want to let me suck your cock?"

House shivered in spite of himself. He knew how Wilson could be when he set his mind to something. _What the hell._

"With an offer like that, how can I refuse?" he said sarcastically, but he was already limping towards the bed. The rush of blood in his ears began to sound suspiciously like what he heard when speeding along at 110.

"That's what I thought," said Wilson, reaching for the zipper of House's jeans.

A moment later Wilson took House in his mouth and it was like riding against the wind.


End file.
